


It Works Both Ways

by Rivalshipping_Archive (rivalshipping)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Domestic Disagreements, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lack of Communication, M/M, Omnicient Cecil, Schmoop, minor spoilers for "Dana"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/Rivalshipping_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re a Scientist. That’s a dangerous job for any Night Vale citizen, much less an Outsider. You’re always… poking around in things you shouldn’t. Do you think I don’t worry about you? You almost died because of the <i>army</i> hiding under <i>Lane 5</i> in the <i>bowling and arcade center.</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [too many stars to count (imagined_away)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_away/gifts).



> just a tiny thing
> 
> im so stuck in every story its ridiculous

Cecil awoke in a huff, rolling out of bed and pulling on his robe before his mind could even process what he was angry about. “Good morning,” he began to greet his bloodstone circle, but then the events of the night before caught up with him in a rush and he grit his teeth.

He and Carlos had gone to an unspecified location for their third date (it wasn’t uncommon for Night Vale itself to know when two [or more] of its citizens wanted a little romantic time together and place them within the town accordingly) and most of it went swimmingly. They laughed, they kissed, they held hands. And then Carlos made the mistake of telling Cecil how to do his job.

“From a scientific perspective, doing any sort of research on your own is very likely to end in disaster,” Carlos said around a mouthful of quietly humming salad. “You’re untrained. You’ve gone into situations with no idea of the consequences more times than I can count.”

Cecil’s loving smile, in place for hours since Carlos picked him up, was a bit forced at this point. “Dear Carlos, I’ll be fine. I’ve been reporting for decades! Nothing has ever happened to me!”

“Statistically, something will.” Cecil’s third eye flickered a bit, looking outward instead of in. He couldn’t exactly tell Carlos that he had yet to See a situation where he would be in any real danger, and even if he did, he doubted Carlos would believe him. “Clumsiness will get you hurt,” Carlos continued, seemingly confident in his own evaluation.

“ _I’ll be fine,_ ” Cecil repeated. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

“I’m worried about your ineptitude—”

Carlos cut off when Cecil stood and slammed his hands down on their table, drawing the attention of a few hooded figures on the other side of the undisclosed restaurant. “I am good at my job, Carlos! I don’t appreciate you looking down on me like this, when all I’ve done is do what I’m paid to do!”

The scientist stood up as well, dark eyes narrowed in what was almost a glare. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Your interns are the researchers! You are the reporter!”

Normally, Cecil would rather drop an argument than make a scene, but being the Voice of Night Vale was a responsibility that was extremely close to his heart and he wouldn’t let anyone, not even the love of his life, insult it. “Station Management has allowed me to—” he attempted to say calmly, before Carlos interrupted him.

“Station Management can go fuck itself!” There was a dead silence in the restaurant now; Cecil’s throat ached in a way he knew meant he had been speaking not only with his own voice but also with the power Night Vale had given him when he was elected Voice. It ought to have brought Carlos to his knees, but it seemed his “Outsider” status rendered him immune.

Cecil was not immune to Carlos, however. Tears sprang to his eyes and he flushed bright red. “How dare you,” he hissed, but it seemed Carlos wasn’t finished.

“What do you get out of this? I know you ‘love your job’ and all, but you’re always being put in danger! I refuse to listen to you endanger yourself day in and day out!”

“No one said you had to listen,” Cecil said through clenched teeth, shaking in earnest.

“And I’m done listening, as well.” Carlos took out his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and dropped them on the table. “Your show could be off air, for all I care.” He straightened his lab coat, turned, and walked out.

Cecil stood, shocked, for all of a minute before he pulled himself together and wiped at his eyes. He didn’t have his car with him to get home, and he assumed Carlos had already left, so he pulled his coat on and prepared himself for a long, cold walk home.

Intern Kayla was waiting for him in a powder blue Prius, idling just to the right of the front doors. Cecil cleared his throat, opened the door, and slid in.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, still scrubbing at his wet eyes with his sleeve. “Sorry about this.”

“No trouble,” Kayla assured him, “We could hear your argument in the station.”

Cecil nodded (sometimes the ancient microphone in his recording booth broadcasted his conversations into the dead air, especially when he got emotional [which meant that the station staff heard quite a lot of him yelling at Steve Carlsberg]) and remained quiet for the rest of the ride, opening his mouth only to thank Kayla when they pulled up to his apartment and he got out and trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

This morning, standing in his robe, arms folded across his chest, Cecil refused to cry again. He cried in public, he cried himself to sleep; it wouldn’t do any good to continue. He shuffled out of his room and down the hallway to the kitchen, thankful that his wallmate wasn’t chanting anymore, and set out to make himself a strong coffee when a short, sharp buzzing made him pause.

It was coming from the pocket of his coat, which he had thrown over the back of his couch in an odd fit of disorganization. The buzzing was staggered, which alerted him to the fact that they weren’t from a call and probably weren’t urgent, but his curiosity won over his need to be fully awake and he sluggishly shifted through his coat’s many openings until he found the one his phone was in.

There were almost ten texts from Carlos and they were still coming in rapid succession. The sight that would normally make his heart jump in excitement now made him sigh and debate deleting all the texts without reading them. Carlos had essentially broken up with him. Maybe not in so many words, but Cecil knew rejection when he saw it.

The phone suddenly stopped buzzing and he sighed again, unlocking it and scrolling to the first text. It was sent not long after their failed date, and the thought of it almost brought Cecil to his knees. He sat on the couch before he could fall, curling his legs underneath himself and propping the phone on the arm of the couch.

_Cecil, I’m texting for personal reasons. I’m sorry._

Of course. They were breaking up. “Stupid, stupid,” Cecil muttered, clenching his fist to keep from hitting himself. The one chance he had with Carlos was shot.

_I didn’t mean any of it._

_I’ll always listen to your show._

_You tell the town everything that I ask you to. Even if you don’t agree with it._

_Please, Cecil, reply?_

_Could we talk? Call me any time. Please._

_Goodnight, Cecil. I’m so sorry._

Cecil, despite his wish not to cry again, felt his eyes prickle as he read through the night’s texts, but he steeled himself for the morning’s.

_I thought a lot about what you said._

_I know you’re good at your job. You’re amazing at your job._

_And I know why you do dangerous things._

_I shouldn’t doubt you. You’ve lived here your whole life. I’m the Outsider._

_You keep the town safe more than I ever could._

_You don’t have to talk to me again if you don’t want to._

_I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I want you to be happy._

_Always._

_I think part of being a scientist is not expressing feelings very well. I’m sorry for that, too. If you want to speak to me again, I’ll work hard on that._

_I’ll work on it regardless._

_I’ll have someone else on my team report to you. I won’t bother you anymore._

Cecil sniffed and rolled his eyes, cheeks warm for an entirely different reason. Carlos had the worst self esteem he had ever seen. The radio host would never voluntarily ignore Carlos, even if the scientist did make him very upset. He fumbled with his phone to compose a text of his own, trying to keep the trembling out of his equally exhausted and relieved hands.

_**its fine Carlos im sor ry** _

Almost immediately, Carlos replied,

_You have nothing to be sorry for. I insulted you and hurt you on purpose._

Cecil’s lips turned up in a shaky smile.

_**ill call you** _

He made himself comfortable, coffee forgotten, and pulled a decorative pillow into his lap before pressing his first speed dial.

“Cecil,” Carlos said, his voice rough as if he had been just as upset as Cecil.

“Hi Carlos.”

“I’m so sorry, Cecil. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

Cecil laughed wetly, squeezing the pillow that much tighter. “Yes you did.” When Carlos made to disagree, Cecil just spoke louder. “Listen, first.” The line went silent and Cecil continued. “I know you think my job is dangerous. I know my job _is_ dangerous. But think about how I feel every day.

“You’re a Scientist. That’s a dangerous job for any Night Vale citizen, much less an Outsider. You’re always… poking around in things you shouldn’t. Do you think I don’t worry about you? You almost died because of the _army_ hiding under _Lane 5_ in the _bowling and arcade center._ ”

Carlos stayed silent for a while, as if thinking hard about what to say. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“I know you didn’t.” Cecil uncurled from his position, standing and pacing between the front door and the (wooden frame, still sporting antennae, but fully digital) television. “And I’ve heard, in relationships, there’s a lot of thinking about other people.”

“I’m not very good at that,” said Carlos, almost to himself, but it made Cecil smile.

“I’ll help you.”

“I’m so—”

The Voice made a dissenting sound. “Don’t apologize again. I’m just relieved we’re not breaking up!” He cringed in the same way he had during the “neat” fiasco and hastened to add, “I mean, I don’t think we are.”

Carlos cleared his throat. When he spoke, Cecil could hear the deprecating smile in his voice. “Not unless you want to. For… personal reasons.”

Cecil shook his head gleefully, remembered that Carlos couldn’t see him, and said, “No, of course not!” He caught sight of the time on the very slightly oozing clock in the hallway and bit his lower lip, pacing a bit faster. “I have to get to the station, my darling Carlos. Would you mind if I called you back later? I don’t want to be late--”

“Yes, sure, Cecil. Whatever you want. I’ll wait for your call.”

The Voice of Night Vale was practically beaming by the time he walked into the station, Starbucks in hand, tie knotted perfectly, and his phone (on silent) a significantly lighter weight in his pocket.  
\---  
They met outside the Arbys at the end of the show. “I heard your jab at me in today’s broadcast,” Carlos murmured, watching Cecil lean his bike against the end of his car and sit on the hood with him.

“It’s the least I could do,” said Cecil even as he turned a bit red. “Not that I would change anything about you, perfect Carlos.” He received a kiss on the forehead for his troubles.

Carlos tucked Cecil’s head under his chin and gently pulled him closer so Cecil’s right leg was draped over his left. “My Cecil,” he said under his breath. “I’m still sorry. You’re wonderful.”

Cecil’s third eye glanced up at him, half lidded, while his other two stared at their joined hands. “It’s quite all right, Carlos. I was actually wondering if you’d like to stay over tonight? Just to… make up for last night. I mean, _I’m_ making up for it!”

“Absolutely.” Carlos leaned away, let go of Cecil’s hand to cup his cheek, and kissed him deeply. The radio host made a small pleased sound and kissed him back.


	2. epilogue

Carlos awoke with a curious Cecil lying on his chest, brushing his hair back from his forehead and stroking the patches of gray at his temples. “Hello,” he said. Cecil only grunted in acknowledgement, shifting so Carlos could move his arms and wrap them around his waist. “What time is it?”

“We have time.” Cecil smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to his nose. “You do realize that was our first big argument, right?”

“I’m glad it’s over. I hope it’s also the last.” He ran his fingernails gently up Cecil’s hips, laughing as he squirmed. They were silent for a long while, Carlos cataloging every minute shift of Cecil's body against his and Cecil counting as many gray hairs on Carlos' perfect head as he could.

The bloodstone circle beside Cecil’s bed eventually began to smoke, feeling very neglected, and Cecil sighed, rolling over to stroke one of the deep red spheres. “I guess we should get up. I have the station and you have Science.”

Carlos pulled him back, smirking at his undignified squawk of surprise, and kissed the nape of his neck. “Stay safe,” he said, smile in his voice.

Cecil exhaled in a huff and tilted his head to look up at his Scientist, third eye black as the void and somehow just as warm. “You, too.”


End file.
